Before we start tonight's wrap up can I just say – Megan? Sally? Alison? Anyone remember them? Anyone at all? Did they ever appear on screen outside of the opening credits? WERE THEY EVER EVEN FINALISTS? A chocolate frog to the first person who can recall anything memorable any of them ever did. (And being in the opening credits doesn't count).
We open tonight on a totally spontaneous and unrehearsed scene, in which Sophie and Kathryn are reclining by the pool in their sunglasses when their strategically placed advertisement mobile phone makes a pinging noise. Two weeks ago this would have scared the crap out of Kathryn enough to cry “WITCHCRAFT!” and throw Sophie off the balcony, but since then she's learned the wonders of the telephone and recognises it as a message from their esteemed leader, the Shiralee.
With a flick of her golden hair and a flash of her sparkling teeth, she tells the modelettes they're all slack molls and have to do more exercise. Or something along those lines anyway. Everyone ignores the fact that they're all an average of 19 years old and have these sorts of bodies without having to do any exercise whatsoever, and two are sent off to the gym, two to yoga, and two to a dance studio.
No one is particularly thrilled about this, except for Sophie who reveals she has nicknames for her biceps - “Des and Troy, together we destroy”. As disturbing as this is, it's nothing compared to the sights that await her at the gym, namely – Alex and Perry, in gym gear he's quite scary.
Of COURSE he's still got his sunglasses on his head.
“He was MASSIVE, he was ripped AS, I was looking at his guns like woahman, Des and Troy got nothing on you!” says Sophie.
Des and Troy. Together they FARKIN GO OFF!
“I train at least four to five times a week,” Pezza says, helpfully pointing out “and I'm not a model”. Thanks for the tip, your complete lack of neck wasn't enough of a giveaway.
While Sophie and Kathryn rip through their quads, abs and glutes under the watchful glare of Pezza, who occasionally cracks a stockwhip over their backs and shouts “HARDER!”, Jess and Joanna are sitting around in a garden on the other side of town with Dawson doing sweet bugger all in the name of “balance and harmony”.
“The reason I love doing yoga is it can make me present in the moment,” says Dawson, while Joanna starts squealing “PRESENTS? I WANT PRESENTS IN A MOMENT! BMX BIIIIIKE!!!”
And then there's Bros, who has bought himself a “Funny 1930s Gangster Dude (with detachable spats!)” costume from his local Cunnos and has holed up in a studio somewhere to choreograph the latest film clip for his new band, Swing King Flinn and the Shebangabangs. Sadly he is interrupted by Kel-manda just before he gets to practise his paso doble.
"A life lived in fear is a life ha... OH HAI GIRLZ!"
He tells Kel-manda that the three most desirable traits in a model are grace, elegance and balance, which is why he throws them into some tights with giant punctuation marks on them, sticks them both in dodgy top hats an makes them jump up and down in front of a mirror.
The epitome of elegance. Meanwhile, are Amanda's legs swearing?
Meanwhile back at the gym, Pezza is dishing out more pearls of wisdom as he puts Sophie, Kathryn, Des and Troy through their paces.
“When you exercise regularly, it allows you to be fit and active,” he says, as millions of viewers around the country simultaneously construct a sentence using the words “no” and “shit”.
Over in the park Dawson, Jess and Joanna have just finished “downward dog” and are now into “upward clacker”....
How awkward for that couple in the background.
...and back in the studio the three stooges continue their work on the crappiest dance routine since Murrumbidgee Primary School's performance of “A Bush Christmas”, in which several year 3 students had to be hospitalised after slipping in mess left by Kevin the kelpie.
Thankfully this segment comes to a close at this point (jeez – Jess and Joanna dodged a bullet there, eh?) and we move on to the next thrilling challenge – walking through the streets of Sydney.
“I don't know Sydney AT ALL so I had NO CLUE,” says Jessica. I think we should probably add a feature to the ANTM drinking game about here – any time anyone says they have NOY IDEA or NOY CLUE, drink a shot.
See you in the emergency room.
They all traipse into the Metro Theatre where they are greeted by model, TV presenter and sports star Kris Smith, otherwise known as “that guy wot goes out with Dannii Minogue”. Fortunately everyone is looking their best for such an exciting occasion, except Sophie, who has obviously developed a bald patch and is training her hair to sweep over the top of it:
"You can hardly tell, right?"
Mr Minogue tells them they'll have to slap on some cheap cotton underwear and dance to an Evermore song, which sounds rather like most Friday nights at my place (if you substitute “dance” for “cry into” and “Evermore song” for “bottle of vodka”.)
Kel-manda grins to itself, knowing the hour spent in punctuation tights and top hats at Bros's dance studio will TOYTALLY give it the upper hand.
Apparently the modelette who dances the best in their undies gets to become a Bond girl and star in a campaign about tubes.
You Google "bond" and "tubes" and this is what you get. Makes about as much sense as the brief.
Suddenly Pee Wee Herman and Brad Pitt's nerdy cousin burst into the room to teach the modelettes how to touch their crotches. I look down to check if I have a warm crack pipe in my other hand but no, this is actually happening.
The last word in cool.
With some bum wiggling, some crotch grabbing and some arse stroking it's certainly a difficult dance routine - probably put most eloquently by Sophie: “If you fuck it up, yer gunna look like a bit of douchebag.” Quite.
Suddenly the modelettes' stage rehearsal is interrupted by three nerds – clearly a bunch of autograph seeking geeks who have followed them in from outside. It's like an episode of Glee but with more jocks (albeit cotton ones). Just as Dawson is about to swing in from the rafters and punt them out they introduce themselves as the band.
Oh. Right. Cool.
Fortunately Kel-manda is still impressed.
"What band did you say you were in again?”
Outside, and clearly as well as the Evermore underwear concert the Metro is hosting an event people would actually be interested in going to, possibly in a back room somewhere, as there is a huge queue of people snaking down the street waiting to get in. Maybe they are giving away free donuts or something.
Back on stage and Evermore are counting their cash, er, I mean striking up their instruments for what is no doubt their most prestigious gig yet – the Australia's Next Top Model Bonds Tube Bra Challenge.
“We've got some spishil gists for thus nixt song,” says one of the Kiwi nerds, as the modelettes storm out on stage in 1980s dayglo underwear and start dancing in what looks like a deleted scene from Porky's.
As they strut and pout and grind their booty, hundreds of teenage girls with low self esteem watching in the audience instantly develop an Evermore-related eating disorder – every time Boys and Girls comes on the radio they will now feel the urge to vomit. Like the rest of us.
“What the girls have just done requires far more bravery than any rugby final that I've ever played in,” says Mr Minogue. If rugby players had to play the final in tube bras and g strings, I would totally watch.
In a nutshell:
- Kathryn is criticised for looking “uncomfortable”. Possibly because she was asked to dance in her underwear in front of thousands of people. TO A BAND FROM NEW ZEALAND.
- Spohie is given an “A for effort”, even though she stuffed up half the dance moves. Her hair gets a D.
- Kelsey is criticised for taking the Bonds brand – which has a happy, teen, colourful, comfortable, fun vibe - and giving it more of a “3am, car park, pole dancer, hood of a car” kind of vibe, courtesy of her X rated dance moves.
- Amanda and Kelsey are nominated as the best performers, but sadly their siamese twin alter ego Kel-manda can't take the prize, so Amanda does, making her the inner tube bondage girl, or whatever the hell the prize is.
"So what, I've still got the Botox campaign.”
Ever the sore loser, Sophie gets straight on the phone to The Boyfriend to complain about... her hair.
So, probably allowable in this case, then.
“The only reason why I didn't win is because of my hair,” she says.
You know, I tend to agree.
“I was so pissed off, because I did the best job out of anyone,” she rants.
There is a huge silence as her boyfriend, who has been watching the footy for the last 20 minutes, tries to remember what she's been talking about so he can respond appropriately. He can't, so just says: “Yeah that's pretty gay.”
Just like this. Although this guy has better hair.
Suddenly it's 11.24pm, and all the modelettes are tucked up in bed asleep, because that's what 19 year olds do when you throw them in a house together with no rules and regulations or responsible adults.
But their slumber is interrupted by a Sarah Mail telling them to pack their bags and get out of the house in half an hour, in what is a clear breach of the Residential Tenancies Act. They should seriously take that bitch to consumer affairs. Oh wait, they're just leaving temporarily – some sort of holiday or something. Whatever, they have to pack warm clothes and leave at midnight in the lime green cavalcade of the... HANG ON.
Could this be the ACTUAL Apocalypse?
Suddenly the Shiralee calls. Phew, can't be the Apocalypse then – she would certainly have been spirited away to a higher plane by now. She double checks that the girls have “noy idea” where they're going.
We have noy idea – CHECK.
As soon as the girls see mountains with snow on them, they quickly work out they're going to the snow, because they're smart like that. It's exciting for them but it's even better for Bros, who he gratefully gets into the cavalcade after spending the entire night shivering on the side of the road waiting for the bus out of Thredbo.
“Christ, when is the 621 going to rock up?”
Despite the hordes of tourists at Thredbo he's managed to avoid being recognised thanks to his cunning disguise as a 19th century Russian tzar in fancy dress as a western suburbs drug dealer.
“Da, zis batch of ice is very good, das vadanya.”
He tells them they'll be lounging around in the snow in lingerie, which doesn't sound like a tempting prospect until you consider their other challenge this week was “dancing to Evermore in lingerie”. I think I know which I'd prefer.
See my point?
They go up in a chairlift, which holds no intereste for anybody save for the fact that it allows Amanda to make yet another reference to faeces: “Sophie will be crapping herself,” she says. SERIOUSLY, THIS GIRL'S ABILITY TO PUT POO IN EVERY CONVERSATION KNOWS NO BOUNDS.
“THIS IS THE CLOSEST THING I'VE COME TO A ROLLER COASTER!” shrieks Sophie, as she gently glides up the mountain on the chairlift at approximately 4km an hour.
At the top all the modelettes get haired and makeupped and dressed in skimpy lingerie covered in sequins. Not to be outdone, Bros shows off his brand new hat he bought at the gift shop.
“It has a drawstring and everything!”
Bros points out a rack full of dead animals in the corner and helpfully outlines the ethical guidelines for the shoot, which basically boil down to: bothersome animal rights organisations have tried to get fashion designers to stop using fur for decades, but the reality is, fur is totally hot, so that's the end of that.
“You can make the decision as to whether you want to wear the fur or not,” he says, which I think is quite fair – either freeze your arse off in your ethics, or put on this fur coat. Simple.
“I guess if I had to kill an animal I wouldn't wear the fur, but I didn't have to do that so it didn't bother me,” Sophie says, getting over the ethical dilemma with admirable ease.
I'm still waiting for the moment where the Shiralee jumps out from behind a boulder and shouts “SURPRISE! IT'S ALL FAUX FUR!” but it doesn't look like that's going to happen, so I guess I have to assume that a very rare animal actually died just to be stretched around Sophie's head.
And for services to hairstyles the world over, I applaud its sacrifice.
In a nutshell:
- Sophie is told to pull a face that expresses how she would feel if someone came to rescue her, and she does her usual Princess Diana look. Surely if they want some realism here all they have to do is ACTUALLY abandon her, and come back in five days. Then they'd get the look they wanted.
- Jess gives up on her principles and swathes herself in dead, fluffy animal for the purposes of fashion. GOOD FOR YOU, JESS.
- Amanda reclines on some rocks in her undies and a coat, looks rather like an extra from Crime Investigation Australia.
And from the top of the mountain it's a slippery slope down to the elimination warehouse, where bad models are fed into the Ice Master 3000 nd sprayed all over Thredbo on low snow days.
Let's picture bitch:
- Kelsey looks like a call girl whose just come out of the effects of rohypnol and found herself in the middle of the forest.
- Dawson describes Joanna's photo as “being like dysentery”. Amanda slaps herself for not coming up with that one first.
- Sophie is labelled both “expensive” and “Italian Vogue”. See what happens when you cover her hair up?
- Jessica the unemployed girl from the country tells the judges she doesn't buy fur. All of them collapse from surprise.
- In what is possibly the biggest load of B.S since Pedro Al Pablovar drowned in dung at the Madrid Matadors' Association Christmas party, the Shiralee tells Jess she shouldn't have worn fur on the shoot if she didn't believe in it, claiming that “we would never eliminate somebody from the competition because of a belief they had.”
Kimberly Oh, except her.
As always it comes down to two – Joanna the odd and Kelsey the short. But ultimately the short odds are - Joanna's out. She trips out the door, off to pursue another career as Wednesday on the highly lucrative Addams Family impersonators circuit.
See you next week, kids!